


A Look Into Their Thoughts

by Lady_Cray



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Childhood Overreactions, Gen, Name Changes, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Random & Short, Running away from home, nothing here is even 1k, nothing here is over 1k, one shot central, some angst here, some fluff there, speed drables, you get the gits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-08-20 22:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Cray/pseuds/Lady_Cray
Summary: A Collection of Speed Drabbles on various characters on a multitude of themes. Now Up: Bill Weasley





	1. Gilderoy Lockhart

Gilderoy Lockhart, the lovely nurse that often came into his room kept greeting him. The blonde man assumed that that was his name, otherwise he was both receiving another man's post and constantly confused for said man.

Everyday was the same, a nurse or a doctor -or at least he assumed that the men flashing bright lights over his eyes from his magic stick- would greet him and check him over by waving her magic stick (a _wand_ the staff would repeatedly remind him in exasperation) over his head and leaving.

_What a strange name_, he thought as he lay in his bed after the medi-witch (oh because, _get this_, magic is _real_) had left.

Blinking slowly, a smile plastered itself on his face. "I have a name!" he beamed suddenly and jumped off the bed, rushing to the window. He tried to open it, and when he found himself unable to he began pounding at the glass. He had a name! He had to tell the world.

"My name is Gilderoy Lockhart!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, he needed people to remember his name; after all, he wasn't able to.


	2. William "Bill" Arthur  Weasley

If there was one thing in the world Bill Weasley hated more than anything, it was his full name.

The sight of it made him want to gag, and just hearing it made his skin to break in goose-pimples; though he held his mother fully responsible for the later.

Over the course of his childhood, Bill had tried out a plethora of variations of his names. William, Will, Willy (the usage of this one lasted all of six hours after one of his uncles had made a snide remark about a child needing to be called  _ Willy _ ). Never once did he try Arthur, the fear of being referred to as Junior, or to have someone call for him only for his father to turn in reply.

Bill, or Billy if one wanted to be specific, did not become an option until he had run away from home at the tender age of ten after news that he would be having yet another sibling. Snatching one of his father’s satchels and stuffing sweets and a couple knuts and a sickle, he made his way out of the Burrow and down the hills.

Tired and deciding he was a rather safe distance away, Bill pulled a (broken)sugar quill from his sack and sat on the grass. 

“Why are you sucking on a feather?” a little girl of perhaps five wondered aloud, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Shrugging and not really understanding the do’s and don'ts of interacting with muggles -not that he really knew the girl was a muggle with how she was dressed in her school uniform. “It’s candy, how else am I supposed to eat it?”

The little girl had looked at him curiously before deciding his words rang true and took a seat beside him on the hill, and Bill deciding he had made a new friend pulled out a second sugar quill from his bag and handed it to her.

The two children ate their sweets in comfortable silence until the girl asked if Bill was running away. He had tried to deny it but his lie fell short at the observant manner of the child nibbling on the remains of her candy who smartly pointed out that only runaways bring bags with them.

So he had told her his name and then watched in (offended)amusement as she scrunched up her little nose. “I have an uncle William, but everyone calls him Bill. I don’t like him very much, he doesn’t like to play with my dollies.”

And that was that. The two children conversed until the late sun began to set behind the hills, and after carefully contemplating his situation, Bill returned home to a fussing mother.

He apologized profusely for his behaviour, suddenly understanding his overreaction to the news of a baby. Taking his things in his arms, Bill made his way to the stairs, stopping momentarily in thought.

“What is it William?” his father asked, noticing his hesitation.

“Can you call me Bill please?” he asked politely.

“Of course son,” Arthur quickly agreed, it wasn’t the first time his eldest son had requested to be called something other than his given name.


End file.
